The King’s Daughter – Chapter 18

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The King’s Daughter – Chapter 18

by John on May 19th, 2010
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AELSWITH sat in her chamber and waited. What more could she do? She felt as if she were drowning in a sea of emotions. One moment she felt unjustly accused; the next she felt the guilt and shame of betraying her father. It was endless torture.

Her father could not bear to see her for his anger turned to sorrow, and his sorrow sapped his strength. Her brother, though his heart was torn, spent much time with her in both deep and trivial conversation. They reminisced of many happy times, and sad times, too. They talked of their mother; soon Aelswith would be with her. For though she was about to face the hard hand of justice on earth, she had made peace with God.

The most amazing metamorphosis took place as she approached the day of her execution; she had gained an insatiable appetite to glean wisdom from her brother. She was like a blind woman who had been given the gift of sight for a week. She asked her brother many questions. He shared with her many passages from Holy Scripture and excerpts from his own observations, especially from his childhood trip to Rome. He read to her the works of St. Augustine and of Bede. But of all the things he read to her, the Psalms gave the greatest comfort, for even David had received forgiveness from the God he betrayed. Yet she was haunted by one thought—my eyes are finally opened, and there is no time left to see.

The day arrived. Despite their best efforts to keep the event confidential, the royal household was not able to squelch the rumors or the interest. Hundreds of people from across the countryside gathered on the inner bailey to watch—and to mock. Most people did not believe that the king would kill his own daughter. If he did not, they would mock, calling out for public orgies in defiance of the king and his law. If he did, they would get to see the show, and then immediately oust the king, for only the most heinous man would do such a thing to his own daughter. Some made it a game, casting bets on the outcome.

But within the castle halls and chambers there was only grief and regret.

Across the bailey, next to the dungeon, carpenters were busy testing the trap mechanism on the gallows. There were three traps in all; two reserved for Aelswith and Ferrante, one for the man who raped the tavern girl. Everyone in the crowd cringed at the sound of the hinges screeching as the doors fell. One of the bags of sand they were testing with burst open and poured itself onto the ground below. The crowd cheered.

Inside her chamber Aelswith was kneeling by her bed to pray with her brother when she heard a knock at the door. She arose and opened the door; it was her father. She stepped back not knowing what to say or if she should even look at him. He entered the room.

“Aelswith,” the king said gently.

She could not look at his face, but she lunged forward and threw her arms around his neck. He was momentarily surprised but quickly responded with a whole-hearted embrace. Tears overcame them both, and for several minutes they sobbed in each other’s arms. All they could say was how sorry they were. For both of them it was a moment of healing.

She leaned back and finally looked up at his face. His eyes were bloodshot from the tears. He looked older, too.

“Father, can you ever forgive me?” she pleaded, searching his eyes.

“My dearest Aelswith, I already have.” He placed his right hand on her cheek and lightly massaged it with his thumb. He let his hand slide behind her neck as she drew close to him in another embrace.

“Aelswith, do you understand…why?” the king asked referring to the execution.

Aelswith pulled herself back far enough to look into his eyes. “Yes, Father. I do. We have discussed it.” She was referring to the prince who was still kneeling by her bed, trying to remain inconspicuous as father and daughter shared an intimate moment.

“Oh, my darling, I wish I could go back,” the king whispered, closing his eyes and shaking his head slightly as he spoke.

“No, Father,” she reassured him. “You did what you had to do to save this kingdom. I was the one who betrayed you. I should have listened. I wish I could go back.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Father.”

The sound of a bell resonated throughout the castle. It was the eleventh hour. They had one hour left. The king joined Aelswith and the prince by the bed, kneeling in prayer for the full hour.

The noon bell sounded; it was time. They arose from beside the bed, and the three embraced one last time. They opened the chamber door to find Aethelhelm and Eadwulf waiting.

Aethelhelm took her in his arms and whispered in her ear, “I am going to miss you so much, my little apprentice.”

She walked over to Eadwulf. She had never seen his eyes tear up like that before. His lips quivered and his voice cracked, “I…I…” That’s all he could say. She looked up at his big, burly face and grabbed his beard as she had always done as a child. “I know,” she said with a smile. He started to cry, but quickly wiped away the tears that were streaming down his face onto his beard.

The five turned and walked together down the hall, down the stairs and out of the keep.

Outside, on the bailey, eight guards led by the chief guard were stationed to surround the royal party as they crossed the bailey. The crowd was enormous; not even the Festival had brought this many people to the castle before. She could hear them jeering and hissing at her.

Toward the back of the crowd the builders had erected a platform for the royal family. Despite the warnings regarding their overthrow, the king and prince insisted they attend this execution for one main reason; they wanted to be there for Aelswith in her final moment. It was their faces she wanted to see. The royal party stepped up onto the platform and stood at the rail facing the crowd and beyond that the gallows.

Now Aelswith was alone with the guards. She felt absolute loneliness now. When they approached the dungeon, the chief guard took her inside.

The crowd grew restless and rowdy. Some had already started to mock the king. He just stood there and looked at the gallows. The crowd began chanting, “Bring out the dead!”

Moments later, the door to the dungeon opened, and the chief guard came out. The crowd erupted in a roar of pleasure. Behind the chief guard followed the three shackled criminals, one after the other with two guards between each of them. Ferrante led the group, followed by Aelswith, and then the rapist.

Over his shoulder Ferrante whispered, “Sleep together, die together. Is that how it is, whore?” Aelswith grew angry but chose not to respond. They continued walking alongside the crowd and up onto the gallows.

The guards placed each criminal on a trap door. Aelswith stared at the square below. Her heart began to pound fiercely. The reality of this situation suddenly pummeled her whole psyche. There was no turning back. She felt the shackles on her feet and on her wrists. She could hear the sound of guards walking away behind her. She could hear one large set of boots walking heavily towards her. She glanced back. It was the hooded man. She could see his eyes, dark and deep-set. They smiled back at her in a perverse sort of way. She looked forward. Then she saw them.

Across the ocean of people, whose heads seamed to wag and bob like waves, she saw her father and her brother, Aethelhelm and Eadwulf. They smiled at her as best they could. She smiled back. The sight of them somehow brought her great comfort. She closed her eyes for a second to savor her vision of them, to focus in on them in her mind. She felt the noose fall around her neck and then constrict. She could feel the prickly hairs of the rope scratch her throat.

She opened her eyes and looked at them again. She could hear the rapist starting to sob. She looked down and there was a puddle forming between his feet. She looked at Ferrante. He stared at her, smirking, and then he spit on her. She felt it run down her cheek.

“Do not fear; you will see your father very soon,” he spoke in a cynical, devilish manner, “and your brother, too.”

She gave him a stabbing look and then turned to once again focus on her father and brother.

Everything was ready. The executioner stood at attention near the lever that opened the trap doors. He looked to the platform where the king stood. The king was to give the final order. But the king was looking down at the rail on which his hands were pressed firmly. He closed his eyes. The crowd grew completely silent. This was the moment for which everyone had been waiting. This was the moment that would define the future of the kingdom. The king began to push and pull himself with the rail, faster and faster, perhaps hoping that it would give way. Then he stopped and looked up; he looked up at Aelswith. She nodded. He raised his hand and gave the signal to the executioner.

The crowd grew tense with anticipation. The executioner raised his hands to the lever. One by one his large, gloved fingers wrapped themselves around the lever. He raised his shoulders as he prepared to pull.

“WAIT!” shouted the prince. The executioner withdrew his hand. The crowd began to murmur.

The prince turned to the king, “Father, it is the only way—for Aelswith—for the kingdom.”

The king looked at the prince, “Son, I cannot let you go through with it.”

“Yes, Father. It is as we discussed. Trust me.“

The king stood apprehensive, obviously in great turmoil. He shook his head for a moment in silence. The crowd grew louder in their demand for justice. He finally grew calm. “Then, go,” he said, embracing him. “Godspeed, my son.”

The prince flew down the steps of the platform and made his way through the crowd. There was confusion everywhere. The rapist started to jump up and down shouting, “Mercy! Mercy!” Ferrante had a disconcerted look on his face. And Aelswith was thoroughly confused. What was going on?

The prince ran up the steps of the gallows. He ran over to Aelswith and removed the noose from around her neck. The crowd grew angry and started shouting obscenities at the prince. Ferrante began his own tirade.

“What are you doing?” Aelswith asked in an upset tone.

“Trust me,” the prince replied.

The chief guard ascended the stairs of the gallows to protect the prince and Aelswith should they leave. But it was not case. The people grew deathly silent and utterly still. The prince took the noose that was placed on Aelswith and hung it around his own neck.

Aelswith was completely horrified. “NO!” she shouted with everything in her. She began pounding on his chest. She immediately began sobbing, trying to reach for the noose around her brother’s neck. He held her back, and the chief guard came to help.

“Aelswith! Look at me!” he shouted. “LOOK AT ME!” She gained barely enough composure to hear him speak. “Aelswith, take this.” He handed her a written letter, sealed with his wax seal. “Take it.”

“Why?” she cried.

“Aelswith, remember the things that I have told you. Go! I love you.” He turned to the chief guard, ”Guard, take her away!”

The guard pulled her away from her brother and guided her off of the gallows. He led her to the platform where her father stood ready to embrace her. He opened his arms to her, and she fell into them, sobbing with complete abandon. She could not stand to see her brother die. The prince yelled from the gallows, “I die for my sister, yes, but I die for you, also. Remember me when you return to your homes. Remember how I lived and how I loved. Go and sin no more.” The crowd was still and speechless.

The prince looked at the king and nodded. The king raised his hand and gave the signal. The executioner put his hands on the lever. He pulled it and the trapdoors opened.

No one spoke. Slowly and gradually the crowd left through the drawbridge till there was no one left. The guards removed the bodies and took them into the dungeon. Aethelhelm and Eadwulf also left. Only the king and his daughter remained; he was still holding her; she was still whimpering on his chest. He held her till the day was gone.